Islamic Studies (Islamabad) 30:4 (1991)
MUSLIM DIASPORA:
THE SUFIS IN WESTERN EUROPE
KHALZD DURAN
In Western Europe, Muslim communities are a comparatively recent
phenomenon. They derive their strength primarily from some seven million
Middle EastendNorth African immigrant labourers. But number of Muslims
also includes at least 10,000 Sufi converts throughout Western Europe. A
pet subject of sociological research are the fashionable youth "religions"
that are being so much talked about these days. Curiously enough, the
Muslim factor is scarcely ever mentioned, although the wave of conversions
to the Sufi version of Islam is related to this development, at least in part.
In the seventies and eighties, public attention was focussed mainly on Hare
Krishna and the "Moonies" (Unification Church), and few people noticed
what a large slice Islam took from the birthday-cake of a European generation
coming of age. In the final analysis, Islam could well have been the big
winner in what looked like a religious auction, with Christian massesfor sale.
Of these European converts to Islam, a significant number has joined
the ranks of the Sufis. The present paper is an attempt to study the broad
trends, characteristics and problems of the newly converted Sufis in Western
Europe, especially in Germany, and the interaction of these Sufis with other
non-Sufi Muslim groups, both in their own countries and abroad. One or
two important persons and groups feature prominently in the paper in order
to highlight concretely some of our conclusions and perceptions about the
subject under study.
Sufism, often translated as "Islamic mysticism", is a broad term under
which popular religion, spiritualism and mysticism in its various manifestations are subsumed. Sometimes wrongly called a "sect" of Islam, it is more
a general tendency that emphasises the emotional or experiential aspect of
religion over and against the legalistic one: the prime concern is not the
fulfillment of the law, but a close experience of, if not union with, the divine.
The legalist or "orthodox" version of Islam tends to demand sobriety,
whereas its Sufi version longs for ecstasy. The legalist version erects protec-
© Dr Muhammad Hamidullah Library, IIU, Islamabad.
http://iri.iiu.edu.pk/
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Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
tive walls, whereas Sufism seeks to break those walls down. While the
"orthodox" version tends to be exoteric, the Sufi version of Islam manifests
esoteric tendencies. In Europe, the 1980s witnessed a boom of esotericism,
and Sufism came to strike a responsive chord.
Over the last few decades, quite a number of Sufi masters from the
Middle East fled political turmoil in their homelands and took refuge in the
West, otherwise decried as decadent. Such has been their success in winning
Europeans over to their way that they can hardly complain of dearth of
malleable and enterprising European adepts.
There are those Sufis who fully converted to Islam, and there are
othexp-twice as many--who are not official converts, but are, nonetheless,
close to Islam. Their number is particularly high in Britain and Germany,
but they may be found aJl over Europe, especially in the Netherlands and
Italy, but also in Spain and even Greece.
These "sympathizers" are more than just "potential converts". They
constitute something like "auxiliary forces" of Islam in Europe, comparable
to the large number of African-Americans who have not officially converted
to Islam but who are, so to speak, in tune with the "Black Muslims", on
the same wavelengths with those who have already converted.
Apart from the non-denominational Sufis, who are close to Islam
without necessarily being registered Muslims, there are, at the other end of
the spectrum, those who have joined the Sufi fraternitiesclaiming a spiritual
link to one or the other centre in the Muslim world. For instance, the
"Darqawi Order" (Ta-ah Darqdwiyyah) takes the Moroccan city of Fes
as its spiritual focus.
In two British schools for "Intensive Esoteric Education", the basic
texts are the writings of the thirteenth-century Andalusian mystic Ibn 'Arabi.
For further readings, works of the well-known Sufis who wrote in Persian,
such as Rtimi, JW-, and Jili, are used. The existence of an entire chain of
Sufi centres or "homes" should not be considered as a fleeting phenomenon
or as off-track spiritualism. In Bradford-on-Avon (Wilts), the Chishti Fraternity, which plays an important role in Afghanistan and the South Asia, has
opened its Western headquarters. In St. Anne's Centre in Baldshaw (Eastern
Sussex) the organization's Eur3pean director, Pir Vilayat Khan, offers a
programme composed of "teachings, meditation, conversations with experienced healers about preventive medicine, music, dance and universal
prayer". An English poetess, who took as a pseudonym the name of Islam's
most revered female mystic Ribi'ah, opened a branch in Tunis in 1980.
Islnmic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
465
Some of these Brotherhoods follow a militant interpretation of Sufism
that seems closer to the phenomenon generally characterized as fundamentalism than to mysticism. This holds true of especially the Darqawi group
of American and European converts. They reject modem life perhaps more
genuinely and thoroughly than did even Khomeini. Being less selective and
less pragmatic than the Iranian or Arab proponents of what would seem an
Islamic fundamentalist ideology, the Western Darqawi disciples renounce
even such modem inventions as tanks and jet fighters. As an "authentic"
Islamic sport they practise fencing. Their return to the life of the early
Middle Ages and their communal l i v i n e a k i n g their own Arab type of
bread-is characteristic of the present-day trends among the European
youth. For the "ecologists" of the Darqawi Fraternity, deference for the
Prophet's green flag is not a stunt, but a motivating conviction. Islam, as
the din al-fipah (religion of nature), buttresses the ideology of environmentalism.
Part of the Darqawi Fraternity's attraction is that the Darqawis do
not demand a return to the culturally h g a l beginnings of the early Islam,
as do the proponents of Islamic revival. Many Sufis regard the period from
tenth to twelfth century as their golden e p o c h period often classified as
the "Middle Ages of Islam". They also have no compunctions about the
rich poetry of Muslim mystics. Furthermore, they enjoy the spiritual music
that is frowned upon by the more legalistically disposed scholars of Islam
and is altogether an anathema to the present-day movementsof Islam revival.
In fact, a few D a r q a w i w d some other Sufis--are still in the process
of outgrowing their hippie past. Most of the novices already had some
experience with what are called "alternative lifestyles". In former years,
they used to take the long trip to far-away Kathmandu, the Nepalese one-time
Shangri-la of hippies. In the late seventies, they discovered Fes, Morocco's
cultural and spiritual capital. By comparison to other "mysterious cities" in
Africa and Asia, Fes is nearby--and yet so distant in time. Only in few
other places, the medieval patterns have been so authentically preserved as
they have been in this remnant of ancient Andalusia. It is as if the city had
been lifted out of space'and time-from thirteenth-century Spain onto twentieth-century Morocco. For this reason, the UNESCO chose Fes for restoration, as a patrimony of humanity. For hippies, in search of marijuana, it
became a new Eldorado; for Sufis, in search of illumination, a place of
pilgrimage. Perhaps some among this special brand of tourists were both,
hippies as well as Sufis, or, as some people say, hippies and happies.
As in the case of other "alternative" groups, the Sufis come mainly
from the middle class, often the upper middle class. Among them one might
come-across the daughter of an American banker and the shoe-maker of
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Islamlc Studies, 30:4 (1991)
Queen Elizabeth, Italian aristocrats and German bureaucrats, French publishers and swiss architects, Norwegian scholars and Spanish doctors, or
even Armenian officials.
And there is an impressive number of musicians among them. Islam's
fashionable appeal to musicians in the West has a tradition. It began with
the grand old men of American jazz, Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie.
It was the hallmark of an entire US generation personified by Amir Jamal.
It won followers in the "jazz cellars" of West Berlin in the fifties and, in
the 1980s the trend continued unabated. A new stimulus for this particular
phenomenon was provided by Yusuf Islam (Dimitri "Cat" Stevens) and his
Love Songs to Allah, the Compassionate.
Less known in the US, but very popular in Spain, is the Andalusian
hit singer Carlos Cano. Somewhat naively he produced a record with his
own version of the Muslim call to prayer (a&n). Such a blashphemy would
certainly have been scarcely appreciated by a person such as Khomeini or
for that matter, by other Muslims who take a much more serious attitude
towards matters relating to worship. Carlos Cano was not even aware of
the dislike for music in orthodox Islamic circles; and an ill-informed press
alleged that the Spanish pop singer had received millions from Khomeini as
a reward for this infatuation with Moro (i.e. Muslim) tunes.
In 1982 the conversion phenomenon was highlighted by a well-known
columnist who noted sardonically in the leading Spanish daily, El Pais, "if
in today's Spain someone wants to be upto-date, in terms of aesthetics and
spirituality, he had better turn Muslim."
While among converts in Britain and Spain, the Morocco-based Darqawi Fraternity predominates, in Germany it is the Sudan-based Burhtiniyyah
tariqah (Burhani Fraternity). Its folloprers maintain an idyllic centre called
Haus Schnede, off the road to Salzhausen in a romantic region called
Lueneburger Heide, South of Hamburg. Among the permanent residents
of this Sufi commune, there are only few non-Germans, but they are frequently visited by "wise men from the e a s t " 4 u f i masters and their disciples
who come for guest "performances", such as the late Master Muzaffer and
his dancing dervishes from Istanbul.
The founder of Haus Schnede, Stefan Makowski, is the author of
several personal accounts of mystic experiences. One of his books is entitled
The Grapes of the Naqshbandi. He is close to Shaykh NQubmsi, a
Turkish Sufi master from Cyprus who has many Naqshbandi followers all
over Western Europe. During student days in Berlin, Stefan Makowski had
Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
467
come under the influence of an Egyptian spiritualist, Dr. SalBh 'Id, who
was then a teacher at a local high school. After Sal* 'Td's death in 1982,
the mantle fell to Stefan Makowski, now Husayn 'Abd al-Fatt*.
Sal* 'Id, who never cut much ice at home or among educated immigrants in Germany, impressed Turkish labourers with fqir acrobatics such
as piercing large needless through both his cheeks without bleeding. Many
Germans considered him charismatic. Some years before his death, he had
taken Husayn 'Abd al-Fatt* and forty other young German men and women
to Khartoum where they pledged allegiance to the head of the Burhani
Fraternity. Till then, the Burhani Fraternity had not crossed the borders of
the Sudan and Egypt. Although a comparatively young Sufi order, the
Burhhiyyah is conservative and perhaps one of the least intellectual as far
as its leadership is concerned.
For Sal* 'fd, formerly a member of the Muslim Brotherhood (alAkhwcin al-Muslimfin)who, under Jamal Abd al-Nasir's rule, had spent a
couple of years in prison, the chief concern was to differentiate himself from
other Sufi groups fashionable in Europe, such rs the Chishtiyyah, Darqgwiyyah and Naqshbandiyyah. His conversion h m Islamic revivalist ar
tivism to mysticism (spiritualism) seems possibly to have been, or is at least
considered so by those who did not follow him, a "conversion for the sake
of distinction". Husayn 'Abd al-Fatt* Makowski and hundreds of German
followersof Sal* 'Id believed the story that the Burhhiyyah was the world's
largest Sufi order. In reality there are dozens of more important ones.
After Husayn's assumption of leadership, tensions developed because
some of the newer and more intellectual adepts wished for an open end io
their "road to salvation" (!ariqah i.e. way, path; has the connotation of
"road to salvation"). But the Burhanis emphasise rituals more than some
of the other Sufi orders, and many of the German converts appear to have
become more Arab than the Arabs-eating dates instead of chocolate, and
cleaning their teeth with the wooden miswiik rather than with synthetic
toothbrush.
Much of the more philosophical Sufi literature, however, ridicules
formalism and seeks to promote interiorization of the faith. The more intellectual among the novices could not fail to note this contradiction between
philosophical mysticism and the emphasis put on exotic ext~malitiesat Haus
Schnede. A professor of psychology at the famous University of Gocttingen,
Muhsin Bemd Fittkau, came to lead a dissident tendency that advocates
unrestrained spiritual advancemen.. Instead of subscribing to the Middle
Eastern mould of the Burhanis, these non-denominational Sufis insist on
more autochthonous and less outlandish forms of spiritual expression.
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Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
Such disagreements led to a parting of the ways, but both groups
continued for several years as cooperating neighbow in the same charming
countryside. For some time, this German Slid community was spreading
out, acquiring more houses and plots, and even running a little "poineer
settlement" at one place. The entire phenomenon became known by the
name of Haus Schnede, the impressive former manor house in the centre
of this picturesque area.
Dropping in at Haus Schnede does not necessarily mean dropping
out of consumer society, but it does imply a change in approach and attitude,
and certainly in lifestyle. The night-life in dancing bars, customary with
other young people, is exchanged for a family atmosphere and relaxed serenity. Regular Sufi exaltations (called dhikr) as well as occasional ecstasies
create much human warmth. AU this is attained without drugs which are so
popular as a means of inducing ecstasy (Those belonging to the group, by
and large, discard even cigarettes let alone care for drugs).
The spacious forest villa also has a socializing role of yet another
kind. Weekly meetings and other special functions are attended by foreign
Muslims too. Among those immigrants there are both illiterate labourers as
well as Turks, Moroccans or Afghans who belong to the professional class.
Such communion between the downtrodden and the privileged among
foreign Muslims is rarely established elsewhere. In Germany, orthodox Turkish mosques are attended almost exclusively by working class people while
the educated class usually shuns religious activities. But the academics have
no problem with Haus Schnede, because it is not affiliated to any of Turkey's
or the Arab world's political parties, unlike most mosques in Germany and
elsewhere in Europe.
This wholesome role of Haus Schnede has not always been recognised.
On the contrary, there has been considerable hostility on the part of older
Muslim communities. 1983 was a particularly bad year, inasmuch as the
Nordic mystics of Haus Schnede had a bad press in some of the Arab
countries. It all started with a damaging feature in Stem, Germany's most
widely read weekly newsmagazine. The anti-Muslim bias was all-too-apparent. The article was full of absurdities and concoctions of a highly sensationalist nature. It was not just a matter of inaccuracies but of outright
defamation.
For the Burhani Sufis, this was painful enough. The real shock came
when they saw the entire piece reproduced in a distorted manner in alMadinah, a prestigious daily of Saudi Arabia. The Arabic version was
perhaps even more scandalous than the German original.
lslsmic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
469
In all likelihood, there was some inter-Muslim rivalry involved. For
many years some earlier convert-who
were closer to the contemporary
movements of Islamic revival-had failed, despite their efforts, to establish
thriving communities such as those set up by the dynamic Sufis in their green
abode. These earlier converts seem to have enjoyed substantial financial
support from sources in the Gulf, and yet they were unable to make much
impact, neither on the imigrants nor on the locals.
It was possibly not only envy that made their rivals look askance at
the progressing !ariqah of an obscure Shaykh from the Sudan. They, as well
as some disgruntled "traditionalist" Muslims, did not approve of non-Muslim
groups holding seminars on psychotherapy and other topics on the premises
of an Islamic centre, as was done initially at Haus Schnede. In the context
of European cultural tradition, there is nothing unusual about an academy
playing host to disparate groups and allowing their meetings or seminars to
be held against payment of a fee. Most academies would not be able to
survive financially without such an "open house" policy. In fact, many Muslim groups have frequently availed themselves of the numerous Catholic or
Protestant churches for holding their own seminars-with one important
difference though-the Muslims mostly succeed in getting concessionalrates,
and often the churches do not charge them anything at all.
Husayn 'AM al-Fattiih accepted the fact that a sizeable number of
Muslims fail to reconcile to such pluralistic practices on their own premises.
At Haus Schnede, therefore, such non-Muslim seminars were discontinue&
much to the detriment of the centre's financial situation. However, Hhsayn
continued such practices in the nearby village of Bahlburg, where he set up
another centre that was less reclusive than Haus Schnede in its splendid
forest isolation.
In July 1984, an Egyptian religious scholar, Shaykh Zaki al-Din
Qhim, who was, at that time, a high-ranking official of Kuwait's AwqS
Department (Department of Religious Endowments and Islamic Affairs),
visited the region. He convened, at Haus Schnede, German Muslims of all
tendencies in an attempt to reconcile their.differences. He was assisted in
this venture by Bashir Ahmad Dultz, a convert who had spent half of his
life in Libya, until he was jailed by Qadhdhafi to be exchanged later with
some Libyans imprisoned in Germany. This nightmarish experience did not
shake his faith, and ever since his return to Germany in 1984, he has struggled
hard to bring about harmony between his Sufi friends and the more "orthodox" members of the convert community. As a result of his rather blunt
way of preaching, several of the more esoteric and non-denominational
mystics took the final step of converting officially to Islam. It was thought
that this would make Haus Schnede more acceptable to the more * orthodox"
Muslims with their pronounced distrust of Sufism (Many of them regard
Sufism as a cover for extraneous elements seeking to subvert Islam).
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Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
Bashir Dultz, himself a Sufiof sorts, sought to establish his credentials
when he was appointed the local representative of the Muslim World Congress, an organizationwith headquarters in Pakistan, but practically unknown
to workingclass Muslims. However, some two dozen German converts associated with the congress, probably as a means of attaining greater Islamic
legitimacy as an alternative to Haus Schnede and controversial Subism.
For a short while, the disputes seemed amicably settled, but soon the
simmering flame of discord rose again. Much of the infighting is obviously
due to the practice on the part of donors from overseas to entrust the welfare
of diaspora communities to individuals of their very personal choice, mostly
a single person in each country. Since these donors generally rely on a staff
strongly inclined to "orthodoxy", their appointed representatives in the West
are generally persons ill-disposed towards anything related to Sufism. In
the case of Western Europe, as in the case of the United States, the result
is that the funding of Islamic pr~jectsalmost invariably goes to tiny groups
who represent the orthodox or legalist ideological orientation whereas the
larger and more dynamic communities have little share in it. Inevitably, this
breeds resentment, generally expressing itself in hostility to the overseas
funding agencies and to the countries they belong to. Not only that, in
~ e k a itncreated
~
a great deal of bad blood and wrangling among prominent
Muslim personalities and groups. The clash and -rivalry between Husap
Makowski and Ahmad Von Denffer is an unfortunate instance in point.
s the
Aside from the long-standing conflicts betweend the S u ~ iand
Shi'is, Islam in Germany also became a battle-ground of competing forest
retrea-ne
Sufi, the other strongly leaning towards strict orthodoxy. In
this way, two converts of a fairly similar background, both of them middle
class academics with a foible for authorship and leadership, ended up as
rivals rather than as collaborators in the furtherance of a common cause.
Ahmad Von Denffer worked with the Islamic Foundation headquartered in
Leicester, England which is run largely by leaders of Pakistan's Junuj'at-i
Zsllrni. Husap Makowski, even though he lacked the resources that s u p
ported Ahmad Von Denffer, apparently had a better instinct for intellectual
fads and religious trends as well as a greater sensitivity which appeals to
potential converts.
Less openly hostile, but essentially just as much opposed to the Sufis,
is the "Association of German-speaking Muslims", a group dominated by
militant devotees of Imam Khomeini. The members number hardly more
than a hundred, barely half of whom are converts. Among those, half are
German wives of activists following the ' ' b e of the Imam". Among the rest
are Iranians or other Shi'i immigrants who mobilize the converts for their
propaganda purposes, and occasionally for their clashes with other Muslim
groups. Originally it was an association of German Sunni Muslims. Ever
lslamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
471
since it became dominated by people devoted to Imam Khomeini and his
ideas, some other founders have withdrawn from the association, especially
those with Sufi inclinations. The new brand of German converts to Khomeinistyle Shi'ism tends to be pretty fanatic. They provide an ideal militancy.
Some of them have already taken part in militant activism proceeding from
their "Iranian Mosque" in Hamburg's posh Alster quarter.
As Hizbullabis, which in modem parlance stands for the "partisans
of the Imam", these converts reject mysticism as foreign to Islam. ~owe"er,
their monthly magazine in German, Al-Fodrchr, an expensive journal with
full-time employees, does not hesitate to claim the famous Sufi personalities
of former times to be the supporters of their version of Islam.
In any event, the much larger Sufi community, .whether of the
Burhiiniyyah order at Haus Schnede or around Husayn 'Abd al-Fatte
Makowski, has no ally in Hamburg's mosque under the control of the Shi'ites,
where the regular meetings of the "Association of German-speaking Muslims" take place.
The Sufis have faced problems not only with the Shi'is and the p r o p
onents of an orthodox version of Islam, but differences within their own
ranks were even more detrimental to the northward progress of the fariquh.
The leadership in Egypt and the Sudan, known for anything but open-rnindedness, found their representative in the German rain-forests too ambitious
and too foreign to their way of thinking. In 1984, Husayn was sacked by
the ultra-conservative Sudanese head of the Burh*yyah. The process was
somewhat similar to the case of Malcolm X and Elijah Muhammad. Husayn
'Abd al-Fat* Makowski, not unlike Malcolm X, was devoted to his leader
and loved to play the role of a lieutenant. But he was imaginative, energetic,
and a fast learner, soon surpassing the head of the order. Then there was
the usual back-biting based on rivalry among the various representatives.
Many of the German Burhani Sufis would never have known any
thing about their new faith, if not for Husayn, who initiated them. True,
the basic framework was bequeathed to him by his Egyptian mentor, S a l e
'Id, but the movement with its organizational structure was his creation;
Haus Schnede was his initiative. Now the majority of the Burhani Sufis
dissociated itself from him and he had to move out. Husayn took a number
of his followers, both male and female, and made the neighbouring village
of Bahlburg his new headquarters, installing himself in what used to be a
youth hostel.
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lslamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
As is often the case when religious movements split, the excommunicated group does not fully accept that it has really been dismissed. For some
time there is a pretence, or perhaps makebelief, that it was all nothing but
a misunderstanding that will be removed in the course of time. In Bahlburg,
Husayn's followers still used the Burhani prayer manuals (called Awrdd),
but gradually links with the Naqshbandi circles became stronger.
Reduced to a much smaller role Husayn, and the few disciples who
moved in with him at Bahlburg, devised numerous schemes of putting their
financial resources and professional skills together for a variety of joint
ventures. Hi; associates were by no means heart-broken "refuseniks" of
Western society. That brand of Sufi converts which stayed behind at Haus
Schnede, were concentrating mainly on endless Burhani liturgies. Those
who remained in touch with Husayn were mostly living in Hamburg and
other large cities. They tended to have a rich experience in professional life.
There were business managers among them, medical practitioners, lawyers,
linguists, journalists, and even parliamentarians, though psychologists were
still in majority. In Hamburg, two Protestant clergymen continued delivering
their Sunday sermons as paid employees of the Church while "clandestinely"
seeking their own spiritual satisfaction with the Sufis.
While none of Sufis became conspicuously committed to improving
the lot of their fellow-Muslims in the Third World, they all began to share
the desire to be economically independent in a double sense: first, independent of non-Muslim employers who show little understanding for the convert's practice of his new faith; second, independent of donations from
Middle Eastern brethren for the maintenance of Islamic establishments in
Europe.
The latter point is partly explained bJ what was said earlier in the
context of the conflict between Mak0wsk.j and Von DenfEer. But the relationship between converts from the West and their Eastern brethren-in-faith is
often also problematic in a more general sense. Newcomers frequently complain that there is no place in the world where Islam is practised thenti tic ally,
as a model, with a leader they caa look up to with pride. Cbnverts usually
regard the Muslims of the Middle Eastern or North Aficaa diaspora as bad
examples, regardless of whether they are diplomats, students or workers.
Such reproaches used to be voiced most vociferously at the Darqawi headquarters in Granada, Spain (and previously in Norwich, Britain), but they
can also be heard in Haus Schnede.
It cannot be denied that some of the Western adepts are a bit eccentric,
often causing more amusement among Arab or Iranian brethren than admi-
Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
473
ration. For this and several other reasons, converts visiting Muslim countries
are sometimes treated condescendingly, either as pitiable romantics or as
zealots pestering their brethren-iri-faith with fund-raising for mosques. The
dynamic Mur (commander) of this brand of Islam in Spain, a converted
psychiatrist named Maqiir, had a conspicuous success in fund-raining since
he could persuade the amir of a Gulf state-albeit not a conspicuously rich
Gulf State-to sponsor his movement. However, such success stories are
rare. Moreover, the Arabs anyhow seem to feel greater affinity with Spain
than with Britain, France or Germany.
Husayn 'Abd al-Fatt* partly understood this. However, he still harboured illusions regarding a role for him to play on the Middle Eastern
scene. He rented respectable office rooms, established DARAB, the "German-Arab Trading Corporation", and looked out for a share in the exportimport business. He himself had studied business management and was by
no means ill-prepared for the European part of the game. His associate and
faithful disciple, 'Umar Kohl, was a shrewd and active young man, but
lacked experience and had to learn from scratch. The business venture,
however, did not succeed for a combination of factors including the fact
that the sponsor of DARAB had no prior direct experience of the Muslim
world, especially of business there. To cut a long story short, the business
venture proved a failure.
The fact that DARAB turned into a disaster was also due to bad
timing. Husayn started this business venture at a time of recession in the
Middle East. By then, the Arabs had become very cautious. Husayn, by no
means, wished to enrich himself by making use of Islam. On the contrary,
since all his ambitions centred on leading his movement, his desire was to
make money in order to create solid structures for his band of Sufi converts
and the German Muslim community in general. The stretch of land where
his group settled, comprising Bahlburg and Haus Schnede, is one of the
poorest in West Germany. Camed along by the momentum of environmentalism, they proceeded on the assumption that it held bright prospects for
young people eager to exchange the glamour of city life for the clean air of
this green bushland not far from Hamburg. Fish-breeding and cattle-raising
were to supply an evergrowiqg Muslim population with hold1 food. The
British royal family frequents the area for horse-riding. Husayn thought that
this could be an additional attraction, but he lacked the initial capital to
attract the oil-rich Arabs. Besides, it is doubtful if the scheme would have
worked, for the area's awful weather conditions might be alright for the
British royalty, but not for the amirs and businessmen of the Gulf who are
altogether unaccustomed to this kind of weather.
Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
After these failures, Husayn returned to his former life as a wandering
lecturer, holding seminars on esoterism in general and Sufism in particular.
Many Germans, specially women, are fascinated by him and there is no
dearth of participants contributing their fee. However, with his growing
number of children this activity barely kept him going. One of his wives is
Austrian. Austria is one of the few West European countries to have recognised Islam legally as an "official" religion at a par with Catholicism, Protestanism and Judaism. Accordingly, there is religious instruction for Muslim
children in Austrian public schools. Husayn applied for a teaching position,
even though it meant learning the more formal aspects of Islamic teachings:
facts and figures about the Qur'an the way Turkish religious teachers learn
and teach them. For this purpose Husayn settled in Austria, not without
establishing there yet another "Institute for the Promotion of Sufism and
Research on Sufism, Federal Republic of Germany, Austrian Section".
As the director of this Institute, he no longer signs Husayn 'Abd
al-FattHh, but has returned to his previous name, Stefan Makowski. Prior
to this, the independent Sufi leader had tried for some time to demonstrate
that he could be both at the same time: Husayn 'Abd al-Fat@ and Stefan
Makowski, without any conflict. In fact, he had business cards and letterheads printed with both his names on them. On a more personal level, he
uses Husayn even now; it is the name that stuck, and he is generally referred
to as Husayn. It was a conflictive process of reconciling his roots in the land
with his revulsion against its society.
Initially given to a radical "Middle Easternization", Husayn very
soon discovered what most of the converts discover (some sooner, some
later) that in many significant aspects they have largely retained their collective identities based on their affinity to their homelands-Afghanistan,
Egypt, Panjab and so on. The moment a European convert has realized
that, he mostly sheds some of the outer manifestations of Arabism or Turkism
he had initially adopted. African-Americans are quite vocal on the subject.
After some exoticism during the time of Elijah Muhammad, they have increasingly come to affirm their American identity-as Muslims.
For some reason, this almost routine-like reorientation among wnverts to Islam is particularly strident among German Muslims. It would be
too speculative to discern here vestiges of chauvinism.. In all likelihood the
same would occur if there were a similar spread of Islam among Russians
and Poles or any other Nordic people who are temperamentally very different
from the Middle Easterners. The differences in life-styles and behavioural
patterns between Northern Europe and the Middle East are very wnsiderable, a natural result of geography and climate.
Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
475
In any case, Husayn did not have to discover this for himself. A
heated debate was already going on this subject among German converts at
the time when he joined. It was usually the older converts telling the more
fecent ones: "Do not become Arabs or Turks; be German Muslims. Listen
to us, we made the same mistakes you are committing now!"
In Bahlburg, sitting at the chimney-fire in Husayn's Sufi centre, a
long-time convert, Abdullah Huegel, recounted his experiences whole night
long and spoke of his latest discovery. As a technician he had spent some
years in Afghanistan where he had converted to Islam and married an Afghan
woman. After his return to Germany he moved mountains in order to get
a huge building converted into a mosque for the large Muslim community
of Hanover. A man with modest education, Huegel had never been able to
understand much about the attitudes that characterize the Muslims of the
Middle East despite his many years in Kabul and his Afghan wife. His
predominantly Turkish mosque community was sharply divided into a majority of Kurdish Turks (Shi'is) and an almost equal number of Turkish Turks
(Sunnis), each group seeking to take over.
Abdullah tried to bring about reconciliation, but ended up
anathematizing both sides. At one time he called the police to the mosque
to break up a melee. After that he received phone calls threatening him
with the abduction of his children if he did not mind his own business. He
took refuge in the village of his grandparents where he "drank from his
sources". Then cam the discovery. True Islam did not exist in Afghanistan,
Turkey or anywhere else in the Middle East. It was hidden in that German
village. The people there, his own people, were the real Muslims. Although
they did not even know that they were Muslims, they were the only ones.
His visiting card still bore his name in Arabic latters. In his innocence he
had never realized that some Middle Easterners could easily mistake him
for the German philosopher Hegel, for that was how his name (Huegel)
was printed in Arabic.
By contrast, Husayn Makowski has a Faustian touch, and he could
not but draw his conclusions from this and similar accounts often heard from
visiting fellow-converts. Consequently, he began to enunciate a blending of
"Islamic values" and "German qualities9'-whatever that may mean. His
definition of "German qualities" never went beyond adroitness and efficiency. An article of his published in the Arabia-The Islamic World
Magazine (which ceased publication in 1986) was very provocative in this
sense (see "Winning Respect for Islam in West Germany," Arabia, January,
86). In that article Husayn explained the need for Geruian standards of
cleanliness and orderliness. This he contrasted with the mismanagement and
squalour he felt to have encountered in the mosques run by Turks in Germany.
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islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
Furthermore, a German mosque is badly needed in the FRG. To
some this might sound a rather heretical demand, but all the major
centres of Islam in Germany are in the hands of newcomers. Arabs
(Egyptians) hold sway in Aachen and Munich; Iranians in Hamburg;
Turks in Berlin and Hamburg. But only a mosque run by natives can
symbolize Islam's involvement in Germany and perhaps provide a
model inviting others to join. Presently, a German who is attracted
by Islam scarcely h d s an opporhrnity to submit to the faith as such.
He has little chance of reaching the pristine purity of Islam. He can
only entrust himself blindly to a spiritual care that is Turkish, Arab
or Iranian in its outlook and paraphernalia. As a matter of fact,
conditions greeting such a convert are almost repellent at times. For
example, squalid conditions prevail in some of Hamburg's mosques.
It is hardly conceivable that a Punjabi villager, only semi-literate in
his own vernacular even, might officiate as an Imam in a mosque in
Kuwait or Morocco. In Geimany, however, we are faced with pre-.
cisely such communication problems. In this way access to Islam is
obstructed rather than facilitated.
There was something Byzantine (or Ottoman, perhaps) about this
article. In those days Husayn was competing with a Turkish group for the
acquisition of a mosque-like building. The Hamburg city council was prepared to hand it over to any respectable association able to guarantee its
maintenance as a historic monument.
The first opportunity to establish a mosque (and eventually an Islamic
academy) run on German lines as a symbol of &'wuh in Germany,
now offers itself in Hamburg. The municipality owns a building that
has all the appearances and requirements of a mosque, e.g. a rmnaret
and a dome, although it certainly requires a complete overhaul. The
authorities are prepared to cede this building, free of charge, to a
Muslim organization on the condition that the expenses for renovation
are met by that organization. A German Muslim group of the Wuired
type does already exist, but it lacks the three million German Marks
($ 1.2 m) needed for the restoration of the building. If such funds
could be obtained it would be a decisive contribution to the establishment of a model of Islamic life in the FRG.
In the end, neither of them got it, for lack of funds, and the 50,000
Muslims of Hamburg continue with mosques that are converted apartments
or stores.
It was but natural that after his disappointments in Arabia and the
near disastrous failure of his business enterprise (DARAB), Husayn should
.
Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
477
distance himself even further from the Middle Easterners, emphasising the
necessity of "German qualities" to shore up "Islamic values". He did, however, remain immune to the lure of neo-Nazism. This is not altogether
insignificant since several of the old-timers among German converts to Islam
did indeed come from that corner. Many well-known personalities of the
German Muslim community are said to be onetime members of Hitler's
Youth organization. As teenage circle of friends at the end of World War
11, they developed a peculiar liking for the Arabs, and converted to Islam.
While there is no reason to believe these converts to be racists, those who
look at them critically tend to suspect that they may have assimilated the
German chauvinism of yesterday to notions of Muslim supremacy.
This latter stran&the strand of Muslim supremacy--which finds
manifestations in sections of Muslims in many places in Europe, has found
strongest expression not in a German convert, but in a Briton, Shaykh 'Abd
al-Q8dir Dallas (al-MurtSbir) of the Darqawi fraternity. Probably the most
zealous convert anywhere expressing emotions of a rather extreme nature.
Based since 1985 in Madrid, he has been a visitor to Bahlburg and wrote
an article for Husayn's magazine t u f i on "Wagner and Islam", which is an
epitome of his extremist trend of thought. Sufi, however, ceased publication
after the second issue and the Dallas article was never published. The obsessive Shaykh from Scotland could not win Husayn over to his fire-brand
version of Islam, but he did manage to take along Husayn's closest disciple,
'Umar Kohl, himself scottish from mother's side.
In view of those and many other queer associations under the aegis
of the Sufi brand of Islam, Husayn has emerged, after all these years of a
"pilgrim'5 progress" with its manifold reorientations, as remarkably safe
and sound, and seems on his way to end up as an almost traditionalist
Muslim, though unshakably Sufi and certainly with a distinct European, if
not Germanic, identity.
He is a gifted orator and a talented organizer. As a spiritual mentor
he has often had difficulties in coping with the onrush of so many "natives"
all wishing to learn the elaborate rituals in an "exotic" language. Though
he understands but little Arabic, the amciunt of Arabic incantations he and
his flock use in their weekly dhikr (lit. "remembrance of G o d ) is impressive.
Islam properly practised in the orthodox way can be quite exacting,
especially during Ramad&, the month of fasting. Not only are his followers
required to undergo the rigours of dawn-to-dusk fasting, but Husayn is also
unrelenting in his insistence on a separation of the sexes during prayer
sessions and at other functions.
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Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
It remains to be seen whether the majority of local converts, many
of whom were previously followers of all kinds of Eastern gurus, are not
mere drifters. In the early eighties, when Bhagvan made a show of retiring
from his guru enterprise, many of his followers in Germany and elsewhere
joined the Sufi movement, quite a few of them still in their maroon trousers
and sweat shirts. It was for this reason that the magazine Stern entitled its
obnoxious feature on Haus Schnede, "Bhagvan is out, Allah is in". Most
of those adepts left Sufism again when Bhagvan reorganized his followers
discreetly as a software network, part of a flourishing business empire. In
their new role as yuppies, the once so conspicuous disciples of Bhagvan,
are now critical of Sufis wearing Middle Eastern attire.
This holds true especially of Shaykh N&@m Qubrugs Naqshbandi
novices who are often dressed as if they wished to reenact the Mamliik
epoch of Egyptian history (16th-18th century). At Haus Schnede, the Burhani
Fraternity, too, is still very milch under the sway of Middle Eastern folklore.
Husayn, once the most stylish of them all with his comely turban and
impressive white robes, took to yuppie suits when he tried his luck as a
businessman. As explained above, this was also part of the reorientation he
underwent after 1984 and might have partly been provoked by his difficulties
with foreign mentors bent on cutting the hyper-dynamic young convert down
to size.
Along with this, he also shed the emphasis on "healing" and
psychotherapy, although this is where he had started from. "Healing", be
it spiritual refurbishing or mental repair, has always been an important
aspect of Sufi activity. But it is too obvious that only very few Middle Eastern
or North African Muslims are keen on curing Europe's sick or on picking
up dropouts from the affluent societies of the north. In the south they are
rather looking forward to northern fellow-Muslims who do not just sit at
the receiving end but contribute their experience and knowhow to the welfare
of communities in dire need of them. Moroccan authorities are generally
not too fond of Sufis, and all the less of hippies. Steps have been taken to
encourage high class tourism and to discourage the spiritualist influx into
Fes. Spain has not yet reached that point, but not everybody in Granada is
happy with the settlement of the fanatic followers of the Scottish Shaykh,
'Abd al-Q8dir Dallas.
Husayn's progress toward a more realistic position might also have
been influenced by an awareness of such attitudes and developments. Always
a prolific writer, he now sees a more rewarding role for himself as an intellectual. The result is a voluminous study (yet to be printed) in which he
rebuts the New Age theories of the present-day European philosophers from
a Sufi point of view.
Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
470
Such new tasks of an educational type might finally bring Husayn the
"balanced" following he was always been seeking. His "healing" methods
seem to have been based on a peculiar type of hypnosis.that brought him
a larger number of female followers than males, which has given rise to
vexing problems. For this or some other reason Husayn seems to have
become more circumspect in the exercise of hypnosis, and prefers to wield
the pen rather than his eyes.
It is obvious that for Husayn, conversion to Islam become a kind of
self promotion. He turned into a Sufi Shaykh while classmates or playmates
of his turned into party bosses or union leaders. He edited his own magazine,
Sufi, while friends of his edited journals of psychotherapy. He conducted
seminars on esoterism, while former colleagues of his organized art exhibitions. Essentially, it was the same activism and drive that moved all of those
energetic and intelligent young men and women. For some, like Husayn,
Islam became a vehicle of upward mobility, and as such, the Suii version
of Islam was definitely more suitable than any other version of it. His Egyptian mentor, Sal* 'Id, whom prison seems to have morally shattered, had
resigned himself to rather mundane exploits. But he had discovered that
there was a loftier role to play in a society cracking under its own affluence.
That role he passed on to a grateful Husayn who was still in his twenties.
Husayn's pilgrim's progress has been faster than that of most other
converts. Within a span of fifteen years (since he first came under the
influence of Sal* 'Id) he has traversed a number of phases for which others
need fifty or more years. He is young (36 in 1991), and is conscious of it.
He was too impatient to go for a degree, but completed high school
and went straight into business, as a teenager, in the early seventies. Dealing
with art objects, mainly paintings, he soon joined a circle of vanguardist art
specialists calling themselves "The New Savages" (Die Neuen Wilden), some
of whom have risen to fame in the meantime. Later Husayn attended some
courses in business management and marketing.
After several setbacks in his stormy career as a charismatic leader,
he now finds solace in having been called "prominent Muslim thinker" by
an important Islamic magazine (Arabia). He also proudly quotes the defamatory article in Stem that called Haus Schnede "the new Makkah of the
mystics", after all, Haus Schnede was nobody else's brainchild but Husayn's.
All this, however, is not to say that Husayn's conversion to. Islam
was motivated by a desire for distinction in society and for leadership.
Husayn has always been in the midst of it. One of his strongest points is
that he always seems to have his finger on the pulse of his generation. He -
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Islamic Studies, 30:4 ( I W I)
interacts admirably well with all kinds of people, being perceptive and responsive. In other words, he could have gone in for any of the other fashionable
trends. His choice of Sufism was not merely based on a cool calculation that
this was the most promising enterprise. In fact, it did not seem so at all
when Husayn started with Salah 'Id. Europeans were still resentful of Arab
oil policies. Husayn had hardly joined when the Iranian Revolution broke
out. At that time it took a lot of courage to preach Islam in Western Europe.
In the final analysis, then, even if there was any social motivation in
his conversion, the dominant motive was doubtlessly a religious one. And
the impulses were of all kinds: spiritual, intellectual, doctrinal, historical.
We find these reflected in his writings, especially in the manuscript of his
yet unpublished book, The "New Age" i v but a Prelude to Islam. In that
book, Husayn introduces himself as a one-time propagandist of the New
Age, someone who was then a vanguardist intellectuaCand who continues
being so, by now demolishing the myths of the New Age theories, and by
pointing out the fallacies of the "pseudo-scientific" assumptions that had
gotten the better of his generation. As a Muslim and as a Sufi, he wishes
to explain the limitations to which the contemporary phenomena are s u b
jected; the lack of eternity in the things that fascinate the proponents of a
New Age of ideological convergence. Husayn warns that everything is temporal, transient, limited, restricted, ultimately insignificant. He assumes the
role of a caller, telling people to come down from the new Tower of Babel,
to "get out of it".
One might say that the book falls under the category of "doomsday
literature", drawing heavily on eschatological materials from a variety of
historical sources and contemporary fantasies. But then, Husayn will always
be an irrepressible optimist with great plans for the future. What role were
there for him to play if Armageddon were to occur now, if the world really
came to end before even the 90s are over? The real thing is yet to come.
Islam has yet to unfold. Husayn has yet to-find his proper place.
Critics will probably tear Husayn to pieces, if at all any serious publication takes note of this book about a New Age that has grown old already.
But even that would not deter Husayn's advance. Sooner or later the daredevil convert will come up with something new and might achieve a breakthrough, at last.
One might argue that the authoring of such type of a book is, in
itself, symptomatic of the convert situation. Who among them has not turned
into an author? Or should we say that they converted to Islam because they
ldemlc Studies, 30:4 (1991)
481
were authors in search of a theme? Hidayatullah Huebsch, the hippieSufi
of Frankfurt, (who belongs to the Ahmadi sect which the Muslims all over
the world regard as outside the fold of Islam even though the Ahmadis insist
on their being Muslims, in fact the only true Muslims), never tires of telling
what a temble drug addict he was before his conversion saved him (out of
a mental hospital), is a celebrated poet. Some critics even consider him
present-day Germany's Number Two or Three lyric poet. As such, his
Punjabi outfit adds to his popularity, as a mark of distinction. The journalist
M. Salim 'Abdullah was a poor starter, but improved tremendously and
finally produced a good book on the history of Islam in Germany-almost
scholarly. Writing was his life-long passion, and at last he made it. Ahmad
Von Denffer wrote Islamic books, specially for children, which were published by the Islamic Foundation. There is nothing special about these books
though they are not bad either. Again, the passion for writing is evident.
Fatima Heeren and Ahmed Schmede are excellent translators because they
are good writers. The list of "converts" as authors is long.
Husayn may be ahistorid in his understanding of the Qur'ln, and
he may be apolitical in his views about Islam and the world-certainly two
important shortcomings. But he has an important advantage over other
converts out to play a similar leadership role: he is independent, too self-confident to be subservient, and honest, perhaps too much so.
Husayn seems to have outgrown the longing for legitimacy typical of
most other converts seeking a leadership role. He owes his independent
position to a number of seemingly unfavourable circumstances that proved
to be blessings in disguise. His mentor, Sallh 'Id, departed from this world;
the Shaykh in the Sudan turned his back on him; close disciples abandoned
him; Arab business partners disappointed him. A quick succession of rise
and fall, with the concomitant rich experiences, has added maturity to a
character by nature self-reliant. He still continues the game of self-inflationary institution-building, as the high-sounding name of his "Institute for the
Promotion of Sufism and Research on Sufism" indicates, but it is all done
in a humorous vein.
We are talking here about behavioural patterns typical of converts
in the initial stage of their religious and social transformation. A decisive
difference with early convert attitudes can be seen in Husayn's integrative
abilities, his preparedness to allow for a variety of interpretations. Certainly,
most other converts claim that too. Even at the fundamentalist Haus des
Islam in the Odenwald forest, it is an often reiterated principle that Muslims
could differ on many details and that "differences of opinion are a blessing".
However, neither the "Islamic Foundation" in its series of publications, nor
the monthly journal Al-Islam, published from a mosque in Munich, nor
Al-Fadschr, edited by 'AliBauer in Hamburg, would pennit such a spectrum
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Islamic Studies, 30:4 (1991)
of opinions as were published in the quarterly magazine Sufi-A Journal for
Islam ad Mysticism, that was started by Husayn during his days at Bahlburg.
It was a learned journal, superbly edited, and evoked the envious admiration
even of its rivals.
The most important difference, however, is precisely that Sufi was
not an embassy publication, that it was not the mouthpiece of any particular
government or political party in the Middle East, and that it did not aim at
making its publishers emerge triumphant over other convert-run Islamic
publications. Sufi had many weak points, and the liberal tendency of not
pursuing a hidden agenda but of letting the most diverse positions exist side
by side was all too conspicuous. It is difficult to see how it could have
continued like this for long. To give just one example: the second issue of
the magazine published eulogies on the opposing poles of Sufism in the
Sudan, with pictures of both, the executed Ma@ntid T@B and his opponent,
the head of the Burhsniyyah. Heart-warming as this may be to some liberals,
it is totally unrealistic in the North African context and its reflection on the
convert scene in Germany.
At the same time, this serves to highlight the emancipatory tendency
discussed at present: the magazine Sufi, although, produced exclusively by
converts was, in its tendency and general outlook, the least typically convert
publication among half a dozen similar Islamic journals published by converts
in Germany.
An excess of zeal among converts is to be taken for granted, as a
universal phenomenon. Islam is, at present, in a state of turmoil, world-wide.
Though it is not all that sure if the orthodox version of Islam is really
everywhere "on the rise", still such a version certainly is a potent force in
several countries. And those countries tend to make stronger efforts to
recruit converts than the more general and relaxed Muslim communities.
Quite a few Muslims actually have an aversion towards missionary
activities. To them, da'wah smacks of what Christianity practises and reminds
them of the colonial days. However, a number of Islamic organizations such
as the Saudi-sponsored Muslidm World League (mainly in Europe and Africa), or the International Institute of Islamic Thought (in U.S.A.), are
active in the West although it appears that the organizations supported by
the Ayatollah-regime of Teheran are at least as active, if not more.
The result is that converts with their natural urge to prove their
mettle, are induced to become inclined to exhibit excessive zeal. In Gemany,
this trend created fairly serious problems. The desire to be "more royal than
the king" might be regarded as a universal phenomenon with many converts
to any religion. In the case of Islam this has been aggravated by the encour-
lslamlc Studies, 30:4 (1991)
483
agement to extremism by some Muslim governments and organizations.
Under such circumstancesconverts make even stronger efforts to find acceptance in the new community-for fear of not being taken seriously, of being
considered still more loyal to their community of origin than to the Islamic
unvnah (the world community of Islam), of not being fully on the side of
the Muslims. Wishing to demonstrate that they have not come just half-way,
they easily adopt the most extreme positions taken in the world of 1slam.
Seen against this sometimes frightening scene, the presence of Shaykh Husayn Makowski, the peaceful and humorous Sufi disciple of a bon vivant
master such as Dr. SalBh 'Id, can only be felt as a relief.
Lest there be any misunderstanding, this evaluation of Husayn
Makowski does not aim at making a case for him or propagandizing for him.
The purpose of the exercise was to provide a sharper analysis of the convert
attitudes and motivations, of developments and tendencies, by focussing on
Husayn Makowski as someone who is a very typical protagonist of the
European convert phenomenon and who, simultaneously, is indicative of a
"normalization" tendency that usually gains the upper hand at a later phase
of a conversion movement. Parallels to the "re-integration" of the "Black
Muslim" mainstream into American society are obvious despite the very
different points of departure for the European Sufi converts.